Miasma
by Penguinsfish
Summary: Short story about a former Overwatch researcher with a peculiar set of nanorobotics and his relation to Talon's bioengineering arm. (Authors note - Also features a hero concept)


Author's note: Hello and thank you for taking interest in my second try at fan fiction (not say I've abandoned the first). Every time I become engrossed in a work of fiction, I always have an urge to add my own characters and stories. Naturally I regret everything I think up months later, but I've finally decided to act on my brainstorming. Regardless, I think from now the text can speak for itself. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: The following contains the setting and characters from Blizzard Entertainment's game Overwatch and are exclusively owned by Blizzard Entertainment. I am not claiming ownership over any of Blizzard's intellectual property. Please support the official release.

"Antibiotic Compound 23 has successfully terminated variant PRED-013. Beginning test of variant PRED-014." A scientist wrote notes as he gazed through a microscope. He wore a light gray biological hazard suit with a dark visor obscuring his face. An intern stood nearby in similar attire.

"PRED-014 is unresponsive to Compound 23. Terminating sample." The scientist placed the sample into an oven-like machine, sterilizing the dish.

"What exactly does PRED stand for?" the intern inquired.

"It's simply short for predator," the scientist replied.

"Predator?"

"Imagine if you could render a wound essentially and near perpetually sterile for the foreseeable future with microbes. A tiny army of guardians against all those harmful pathogens. Well, not sterile of course, but safe. A remarkable idea don't you think?" the scientist mused.

"But can't we do that already with nanobots?" the intern asked. The scientist stopped writing and gave a sigh.

"Nanobots, nanobots. It's always about the nanobots. Why complicate what nature can give us freely? Without batteries?" the scientist asked, irritated.

"Aren't you worried about mutations, or emergent behavior where the microbe isn't working as intended?"

"You're an educated individual. What do you think I'm doing now?"

"Testing the PRED microbe's susceptibility to antibiotic compounds?" the intern fathomed.

"And why would I do that?"

"Safeguards?"

"Exactly! Never unleash an unholy plague on the world if you can't kill it. Besides, these are one safeguards among many. Regulatory proteins are standard to avoid such mutations. I've already designed several apoptotic receptors and response mechanisms to induce cell death. In fact, I'm almost worried it'll die off before it's able to apply any therapeutic effect. Now, please go to the stockroom and retrieve 3 agar plates. I need to do more tests," the scientist commanded.

The intern opened up the door to the stockroom. Various reagents, plates, and samples were neatly labeled and organized throughout the shelves. At the back were the agar plates. Taking three of the plates, the intern began making his way back to the lab.

"Where do you need the plates?" the intern asked.

"Set them up at electrophoresis station, Mr. Spinelli. I'll have samples for you to run in a moment." Mr. Spinelli took the plates over to the machine when he heard a slight rumble. The scientist glanced up and cursed under his breath. Several muffled bangs followed.

"No, no, now's not the time, is it?" the scientist muttered.

With that, the scientist rushed over to a computer, turning it on. The intern rushed over to see what was happening. On the screen, several armed men wearing what appeared to be gas masks were storming the entrance, firing upon the security team.

"That's the second terrorist attack this year!" the scientist exclaimed, clearly perturbed.

"Second?!" the intern gasped.

"Oh relax, I'm sure the boys and girls from Helix can…" the scientist trailed off.

"Can what? Can what?!"

Glancing at the screen, the intern understood the scientist's silence. Lying throughout the entrance were both Helix security personnel and terrorists. However, most of the terrorists were still standing. A few setup at the entrance. One finally noticed the camera and shot it down. Static filled the screen.

"Terrorists? What are terrorists doing here?" Mr. Spinelli asked frantically.

"Yes… I suppose that wasn't in the details of the job posting." The scientist began ushering the intern away from the screen. "They're here to steal bio-weapons that aren't here. Get in the stockroom, lock the door, and stay away from it."

"What? Bio-weapons? Dr. Peste…"

"Now!" The intern did as asked, entering the room and locking the door. There was no window on the stockroom door, but Mr. Spinelli could see the lights going out. What was Peste doing?

"That's the lab. Get it open!" a Talon lieutenant commanded. One of the terrorists began to override the controls for the lab door.

"We have about 9 minutes until police and more Helix security teams arrive. Once that door opens, grab the objective and get back to the entrance," the lieutenant explained. One of the Talon operatives placed a circular device on the panel controlling the door. A synthetic voice crackled to life.

"Emergency protocols activated. Door locks disengaged. Warning, breach in contamination prevention protocols. Personnel are advised to wear protective gear upon entering."

The metal door slid open, revealing the decontamination chamber and the subsequent entrance to the lab. Talon operatives lined up against the entrance to the lab, preparing to breach. As overrides opened the second door, the terrorists stormed in.

Eerie dim lights from still running machines were all that illuminated the large lab. Tables were dispersed throughout the area carrying reagents and glassware. Centrifuges churned in the dark.

"He's here. Fan out and find him," the lieutenant ordered. Talon operatives turned on flashlights and began to split up, searching behind the tables.

Mr. Spinelli sat waiting in the darkness, listening to the footsteps of the terrorists. Sweat was sliding down his face. Despite Dr. Peste's wishes, he stood near the door, listening. The stockroom lacked good hiding places.

"Sir, I think he's in here," one of the terrorists stated. Footsteps began to approach the stockroom. Mr. Spinelli's neck hair stood on end.

Before the terrorist could reach the stockroom door, a faint buzzing noise pervaded the air. It progressively got louder. The terrorists began to search for the source of the noise, shining the flashlights to various sides of the room. The buzzing sound seemed to be coming from everywhere within the lab. Finally, the lieutenant realized it was coming from up top. He shined his flashlight on the roof.

A glittering grey mist could now be seen above, reflecting the light from the flashlight. More terrorists began to catch on, looking up to see the rapidly flowing mist.

"Sir," one of the terrorists asked. "What is…"

"Quiet," the lieutenant interrupted.

As the terrorists pointed their weapons at the ceiling, the more widespread the and erratic mist became. With more light, they also came to realize they weren't looking at a glittery mist. They were looking at a swarm.

Suddenly, a canister seemed to appear from nowhere, shattering in the middle of the terrorists and spreading a yellowish gas. In that instant, the grey swarm came crashing down on the terrorists, enveloping the armed men.

Like bees, nanobots coated any exposed skin, rapidly injecting unknown compounds into the Talon agents. The terrorists in the middle of room got the worst of it, screaming and frantically trying to swat away the bots. Those who were on the outside of the room fired randomly into the swarm, but to little effect. The yellow gas began to spread to throughout the room, touching even the Talon operatives at the ends. When it reached them, the gas entered their lungs. It induced coughing fits as well as numbness. They began to feel severe weakness in their arms to the point of involuntarily dropping their weapons.

Soon enough, the terrorists themselves began to drop to the floor. As each one fell, the nanobots left the bodies to attack the remaining operatives. The lieutenant could only watch in horror as each one of his men flailed about covered in grey only to collapse moments later. The gas had gotten to him, but he was spared from the swarm so far. He tried running to the entrance, but fell from the weight of his own body. His legs began to fail him. It wouldn't have made a difference though. The door was shut.

The lieutenant took out his radio, praying the signal would get through. He managed to open a frequency to the terrorists at the entrance.

"This is Commander Jackson! I need you to…" the lieutenant yelled before the radio was easily taken from him. Standing over him now was a figure in light gray hazard suit. A dark visor covered his face, but on his hands were strange looking metal gauntlets. The gauntlets had light blue lines along their lengths that dimly glowed in the dark. One of the gauntlets had a screen on it.

"What is it sir? What's going on?" the radio crackled. The scientist spoke into the radio.

"Abort mission. He's not here. Get out while you can, we'll catch up."

"What? Sir are you sa…"

"Are you questioning my orders?"

"No, sir. We'll see you soon."

With that, the scientist tossed the radio. The lieutenant looked up at the figure.

"Dr. Peste?" Jackson questioned.

"Didn't the AI tell you to wear protective gear?" Peste replied. With that, he began to make his way to the stockroom. As he walked away, the swarm began to move towards the lieutenant.

The terrorist moved his hand up instinctively towards the nanobots. In the next second, he was engulfed in grey, writhing around as the compounds entered his bloodstream. Within time, he was rendered unconscious like the others.

As Dr. Peste reached the door to the stockroom, the site of the door chilled his blood. Bullet holes dotted the surface, likely from the panicking terrorists' indiscriminate gunfire. He rapidly tore upon the door to see Mr. Spinelli on the ground, clutching his abdomen. Peste kneeled down beside him.

"Mr. Spinelli! What happened? Why are you so close to the door?" Dr. Peste inquired.

"Apologies. How bad is it?" Mr Spinelli coughed before gasping. He moved his hands to let Peste examined the injury.

"I've seen worse, but worse means they were dead," Peste stated.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, but you should be reassured that I have no desire for nor intention of spending another weekend looking through more internship applications." With that said, Peste summoned the glittering swarm from the lab. Mr. Spinelli gasped at the sight and reflexively reeled back as it swarmed him. The grey mass converged on the bullet wound, but an unexpected sensation came over Mr. Spinelli.

The nanobots began removing the bullet and any debris from the site before repairing the damaged tissue. Frayed nerve endings and severed muscle was carefully knit back together. Mr. Spinelli felt the pain subsiding and watched in awe as the swarm repaired the injury. Compounds were injected to ward off infection and reduce pain. The nanomachines finished their work, neatly closing the epithelial tissue. Mr. Spinelli breathed deeply.

"Wait, didn't you say…" Mr. Spinelli began.

"Just because I'm not too fond of our medical reliance on nanobots does not mean I doubt their usefulness. Now, you need detox." Dr. Peste opened a pouch on his hip. Out of it came a red swarm. The red nanomachines covered the exposed area of Mr. Spinelli's suit. They began to cover areas of his skin exposed to the air of the lab.

"Come on, we'll wait in the decontamination shower. I don't want you catching anything in the lab," Peste explained. Holding onto Peste's arm, Spinelli stood up. Just then, he noticed a distinctive insignia on one of the gauntlets. It took a second for Spinelli to process what the white and yellow symbol was before he finally recalled. It was a startling realization.

"Dr. Peste, you were part of Overwatch?" Spinelli asked, astonished. For a moment, Peste was silent, quietly moving towards the shower. Then he spoke up.

"Overwatch Medical Division, Research Department. I wasn't there long."

"I… I apologize, but I don't recall seeing you among Overwatch's teams," Spinelli commented. Dr. Peste sighed, but smiled under the visor.

"Not all of us flew around on angel wings, Mr. Spinelli. Some of us wore lab coats and hazmat suits. I was one of them." Peste looked at the unconscious terrorists. "Maybe that's what this is all about."

"But, Dr. Peste, the swarm?" Spinelli inquired.

"A gift. All you need to know about it…"


End file.
